


Two Roads, Revised

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3746263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kathryn and Chakotay several years after <i>Voyager</i> returns home from the Delta Quadrant.<br/>An alternate look at J and C, as opposed to a sequel, to ,"Not Yet," (because I stink at writing those), in which both characters behave a little differently.  Fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Roads, Revised

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all of its subsequent incarnations, (including Voyager) are property of CBS Corporation and/or Paramount Pictures. No characters belong to me. No profit made. No harm intended.  
Title: Two Roads, Revised  
Author: kneipho  
Beta: Ralkana (Any errors you unearth are mine, not hers.)  
Fandom: VOY, Post "Endgame"  
Rated: PG-13  
Character/Pairing Codes: J/C, references to J/M, J/Ja (The Caretaker, Workforce and Endgame).  
Written for Joanie, who liked, "Not Yet", but who likes "happy endings" and wanted something more.

   
After a very long six months, most of it spent in remorseless nagging, Kathryn had finally been able to convince Chakotay to leave Trebus, and move to Earth. In a sweetheart deal that included a quarter of an acre of land (and a home in the heart of San Francisco's Presidio district), the Museum of Humanoid Development in Intergalactic History had offered him the coveted job —of Man In Charge. The museum board gave him an extraordinary eight months to decide. They wanted "the Chakotay of the Delta Quadrant" and stated they were willing to wait for an answer.  
He balked initially at the offer. The position required regular contact with Starfleet. Most dealings went through the Academy which wasn't an issue, but Chakotay would, if he accepted the position, be expected on occasion to "do business" with the Yahoos in charge. Kathryn felt the curator-ship with the museum offered a perfect opportunity for Chakotay to reinstate equipoise in his relationship with Starfleet. Since his return to Federation space, he tended to look upon the organization with the eyes of a man severely burned in a political fire. Starfleet Command, in his opinion, held several blackened matches in its metaphorical pocket.  
True or not, it was part of what made him who he was, part of them both and it wasn't going to go away, no matter what he decided to with his life or where he chose to live. Kathryn thought he should live on Earth. With her.  
 

   
Several weeks after the museum made their offer, during one of his bi-monthly visits, Chakotay admitted he was on the fence about the job. Kathryn became impatient. She employed every argument she could think of to get him to commit. She even tried exercising her infamous "Death Glare" but it didn't work. He just kissed the top of her head in response. Then he ran like hell to the nearest transport station, citing a forgotten appointment on Vulcan as he hustled down the hill. She did not see him again for another five weeks. Chakotay understood her temper.  
Thereafter, she simply resorted to a steady stream of a magpie-like pestering --and, in the end, he decided to accept the post. When he told her, she could hardly contain her glee."You love winning, don't you, Kathryn?" He simpered at her through the communications monitor. "Why don't you just go on and do a little jig of victory? Go on, get it over with."  
"I'll save that for when you get here." she countered jauntily. "I can't wait. We can have dinner together whenever we feel like it. Just like old times."  
"He'le'. That is the way it will be... What have I gotten myself into?"  
Kathryn's entire countenance shimmered with unconfined mischief. "The time of your life."  
He inclined into the computer console, reaching for the button to end their communication, and groused. "And lots of dishes, I suppose."  
The screen went dark to the twittering music of her paradisiacal laughter.

 

Some time later, in the middle of a typical Northern California August, Chakotay stood in the kitchen of his new home, adjusting pizza dough on a sensible oak wood-cooking island. Kathryn sat several lengths away, safely installed on a high-backed stool. The kitchen was open by design: capacious and rectangular. An ample window graced the main wall, supplying the surrounding area with lots of natural light. Fresh herbs bound with purple string hung in fragrant bundles from thick solid rafters that ran across the length of the ceiling. Kathryn lounged in a childlike position, her head cradled in one arm, across the marble counter top. A fragrant red wine filled a long stemmed glass resting on the counter before her. She loved these evenings. After a hard day of wrestling with Federation concerns, it was incredibly calming to sit down and soothe away her worries with a bottle of wine, the smell of drying rosemary, and the slow movements of Chakotay at ease.  
Tracing the stem of her glass with a quiet mind and her free hand, Kathryn watched Chakotay handle the dough. Snowy flour of fine high gluten coated his hands and forearms as he combined more flour, salt, yeast and water into round buns. There was an air of supreme tranquility about him as he worked there, clothes flecked with edible dust, humming to himself. One might never guess he had once spent part of his life fighting Cardassians, his clothes flecked with blood.  
"Do you want another glass of Merlot, Kathryn?" he asked, not bothering to look up. He doused his fingers with olive oil and slapped a light coating over the newly formed yeast balls.  
She answered softly after a mini delay, her husky voice welling up from an imaginary distance. "No thank you."  
Chakotay covered the buns with a thick cloth and glanced her way. Her small face was a charming shade of pink, the drive of color accentuating the freckle own nose with a white finger.  
"Like what?"  
"Sitting there behind the counter in that baggy uniform of yours." He placed his arms and hands under the kitchen faucet, washing them clean under an even runnel of clear water. "You remind me of Miral when she plays dress up in my old regulation duds." Kathryn grunted, a droopy smile pasted on her lips. Chakotay sighed. He scrutinized the half-empty bottle beside her glass. "Why don't you go sit over by the window?" he suggested. "Breathe in some fresh air." Kathryn stood up, clutching her beverage. "Leave that. I'll bring you some water. "  
She wobbled from the counter. With her high-backed stool in tow, she squeaked her way across the floorboards into the light streaming through the windowpane. Warm sunshine poured down on top of her head, enhancing the pleasant languor of her mood. She stared out, inspecting the scenery. An ancient road of dust, scattered with pebbled rocks, ran along one side of the house. It split into a fork beneath the open window before winding off into two distinct separate paths.  
The tinkling slosh of liquid and ice called out from behind her.  
"It's a nice view, isn't it?"  
Without turning, she accepted the offering. "It is," she said, rolling the cool surface of the glass across the curve of her forehead before taking a sip. "Made me think of Quarra."  
"Quarra," he said blankly. "Does it, really?"  
She gestured with a casual wave. They hadn't spoken of Quarra in years. "The fork in the road. It made me wonder. What I would be like today if I had chosen to stay there and live out that other life?"  
"You would've been happy, Kathryn."  
"Probably."  
Together, they gazed out the window: Kathryn seated on the stool, Chakotay standing behind her. The back of her red-gold head tilted comfortably against his sternum while his big arms draped around her throat with lazy familiarity. Wild green grass grew before them in abundance, rows and rows of emerald green. It invaded the stony paths in lined patches, diminutive blades of brown and stick-like bushes daubing sections of the entire picture --all of it fading into a line of blue near the very edge of the horizon.  
"You know, I liked Jaffen," Chakotay confessed, his voice melodious. It vibrated through his torso and into Kathryn's back. "He looked a lot like some of those old holo-images of Mark."  
"Do you think so?" Kathryn responded, her brow drawing in on itself. Turning, she moved to burrow her satiny cheek into the strength of his chest. "I never thought much about that. I don't know. Personality-wise he had lot more in common with you."  
Chakotay's embrace tightened infinitesimally. She rewarded the action with a ladylike sigh of contentment. "Do you know what I think of when I look out there, Kathryn?"  
Her skin tingled with delectable pinpricks as his articulations passed through her body once more. "No. Tell me."  
"It doesn't matter which road I choose to explore, because ultimately, if I just turn around, both paths will lead me back home where I belong... " To you. He didn't verbalize the last part of the sentence, but she heard him say it all the same. Both paths will lead me home to you.  
Kathryn repositioned herself to search his face. He seemed inexplicably vulnerable to her, as he always managed to seem to her in these moments. "You're very good at that, Chakotay," She teased, winding her arms about his neck.  
He pulled her close. "Good at what?" He bent his dark head and nibbled at her neck, making her shiver.  
"Telling me you love me without ever actually saying it out loud."  
He raised head, his expression brimming over with a mixture of rascality and obvious desire. "Why, thank you, Kathryn. I consider it a gift."  
His mouth slanted over hers before she could protest and he told her what she wanted to hear, in an intimate whisper that made her body sing, between soft tongued caresses. Kathryn lost herself in his affection with enthusiastic abandon. Encouraging a monumental swell of passion to rise between them, she shattered his composure by laving his mouth with kisses her own --as moist and gentle as the flutter of newly hatched butterfly wings.  
Dinner was going to be late.  
The man who held her in his arms had followed her throughout an extraordinary journey. He helped her keep an unbelievable promise to guide a lost band of people across an interminable distance of interplanetary pandemonium. He remained by her side when she had refused to give up, even when the strain of all the responsibility had nearly cost her sanity, had nearly cost them each other. Yet they stood together now after over a decade of friendship, at the journey's end --both healthy, alive and free of demons. She had healed herself by getting them home and moving forward, dressing his wounds in the process. An incredible woman, he worshiped her for everything she was.  
She was immensely proud of that accomplishment.

 

Two Roads, Revised, Copyright 2006-13


End file.
